


it goes like this (the fourth, the fifth)

by MyShameMachine



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Tags Are Hard, none of which is explicit the "m" warning is for theme, spoilers up to and including episode 75 of campaign 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 22:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20320783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyShameMachine/pseuds/MyShameMachine
Summary: The Mighty Nein and their struggles with self harm, as well as some points that help them get better.





	it goes like this (the fourth, the fifth)

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE NOTE: The plot of this story is heavily focused on self harm. If that's going to bother or hurt you, do not read this. It's not worth it.
> 
> Also I just wanted to say I'm kinda surprised nothing was tagged Nott & Caleb & Yeza, please let them all be friends I'm begging you
> 
> Also I did ignore some canon here, but whatever honestly

Technically, Molly isn't even one. He crawls gasping from a shallow grave in a body that belongs to someone else. And he doesn't understand. In less than a week, he will meet an aasimar who tries to understand, but for now, this skin is not his own, so he scratches at it until it peels off. This is not me, not me, not me… it plays over and over in his head, so he screams, bloodcurdling, in some language he just understands. Afterwards, he discovers a dead bird, eyes shiny. And not yet Molly learns that his pain and his words have a power greater than he is.

Fjord is maybe seven, the first time it happens. Some kid on the streets had sneered at his teeth, asked if he used them to kill people like the monster child he was.

Fjord has never been forceful.

When he didn't fight back, the kid had only kept taunting, snapping his jaws to mock Fjord's barely-there tusks.

Fjord was too young to have full tusks, and he swears he never will as he spits blood from his mouth.

Fjord is seven, and a clumsily held knife has cut the teeth from his mouth, leaving a series of ruined bone splinters, thin ragged tentacles of jagged cut flesh, and an oozing mass of blood. It has to be worth it, he reminds himself. He has to look normal to make it out, to make it anywhere.

It hurts every time he speaks or chews for a while, but he gets used to it. After all, the mocking is less now. He's less of a monster, after all. Some shopkeepers even smile at him, trust him. It's better this way, so he keeps doing it.

Beau is ten, the first time. Her mother has forced her into a dress, and she wants to ruin it. Simple as that, she's sure. So she challenges some noble boy, says there's no way he could beat her, taunting and taunting until he gives in and Beau gets a fist to the nose.

Blood drips down, ruining her white dress. Hell yes, Beau thinks, and maybe she loses the fight, but the dress is wrecked, the first of many. And if it's usually her blood that stains things, well, nobody needs to know that.

Caleb (well, it was Bren) is eleven, almost twelve. Master Ikithon is before him, telling him about the importance of his duty to the Empire.

"Prove yourself," he asks, looking down on Caleb. His jaw is set, glasses perched on his nose.

"How?" Caleb asks.

Later, Caleb will dream of this, and his … habits bind the rhythm of those old nightmares.

But now, Caleb is young and his eyes bright and he wants nothing more than to make Master Ikithon happy.

Master Ikithon takes his arm, almost gently, holds it out to him, as if to show Caleb it is there. With his other hand, he holds out a knife. Caleb watches the light bounce off it for an uncomprehending second.

Master Ikithon sets it in his hand.

"One cut. Horizontal. And I will put something in it. It's for the Empire."

So Caleb agrees.

Jester is fifteen, the only (well, technically, sort of, not really) time. She locks a politician on a balcony and laughs, joy fizzling through her. But then her mother is there, and she has to leave. So she punches a mirror, blood flowing like tears. And it feels good, but her mother finds her and bandages it. Jester has never seen her mother cry before. So she promises never to do it again, because she can't hurt her mother like that. And she keeps it, mostly. It's not like her mother will know, she reminds herself. It still makes her guilty.

Yasha is seventeen and so deeply in love. She can't be, though. Yasha is promised to a man with kind eyes, and there isn't anything wrong with him, per se. She just. Doesn't like him the way she loves Zuala. Her sword brings her comfort in more than one form, briefly. But Zuala finds her one day. She says nothing, bandaging the wound. Later, when, a day when Yasha can bear it no longer, she tries to kiss Zuala. Zuala stops her, a finger on her lips, and Yasha crumbles inside. Zuala moves closer to her, whispering in her ear.

"Not until you're better."

So Yasha gets better, as best she can.

And she is happy, with Zuala- until they are caught. Afterwards, Yasha does not get better until she meets a purple tiefling who is missing parts of his skin.

Nott is in her twenties, and she has just been transformed into a goblin. She realizes almost instantly, looking down on her claws, her green, horrible claws. This is not what Veth Brenatto is. She is not, cannot be, this body. This is a goblin, a torturer, an uncivilized being. Once she is certain the goblins will not catch her again, she collapses, sobbing. It hits her that she cannot go back home this way, that Luc would not recognize her, that Yeza might scorn her. Nott wouldn't blame them. She certainly couldn't be around people. Unless, it hits her, this is a false layer of skin. She looks down on those claws, and rakes them down her arms, her legs, across the bosom of her chest. At first, she is hopeful that the skin might regrow in Veth's brown, but it doesn't, it grows back in this goblin's soft green. The scabs are preferable, with their dark tone that was shiny in the sunlight, so she makes more of them.

Caduceus isn't sure how old he is, or even exactly why. He's not sure of plenty of things these days. Time doesn't seem quite reliable, either. He always tries to tend the grove, but sometimes he wakes up half in a grave, long dirt-coated slashes marring his pale skin. Sometimes he remembers making them, feeling a golden glow of pain stretch through his body. Sometimes he doesn't, simply accepting them as they appear. He never quite remembers why. Caduceus has met people who have come to the grove like this, some grieving and some hoping to secure a place. They are numb, sometimes, angry, maybe, or hopelessly sad and self-loathing. Caduceus is none of those things, so he's not sure how to stop.

…..

The whole group knows about Molly as soon as their first fight at the circus, but nobody really stops to question it. Yasha, of course, knows exactly what he's doing, and he knows she'll be watching him after, but she's learned to accept that this is what he does in a fight, that it's not quite the same as what she does. And the group seems to catch on quickly when they see the damage he does.

Nott, oddly enough, is the one who gets closest to figuring out his secret when she asks how he found out that he was a bloodhunter, but he dances away quickly and no one asks after him again. He dies before any of the rest of them dig that deep.

(He never knows that Calianna did see closely enough, and that if they'd read a letter she'd sent the Mighty Nein might have asked questions and maybe he would have learned a better way to do magic than slicing open his own skin. Or maybe he would be as stuck as Fjord, with nothing to make him as powerful as he needs to be. There's no way to know.)

…..

All of the Nein figure out Fjord faster than he'd like as well. He supposes it's fairly obvious to anyone who knows half-orc biology that he should have tusks, but doesn't. Most people just don't know or care enough to look into it. Fjord doesn't see a purpose in hiding what he does, so he tells most of the truth, down in that cave with people he barely knows.

Nobody is terribly alarmed, which is somewhat worrisome, but at the time Fjord is mostly grateful none of them seem angry. He promises to stop picking at his tusks, and at the time he thinks it might be a lie.

But every time he does minor work with the falchion, someone (usually it's Jester) puts a hand on his arm and just looks at him. It's a bit of a process, but he stops, mostly.

And then one day on a stolen boat, Jester compliments him on his tusks and his heart sits in his throat for a second and he stops for real after that.

(The slip up in the Dust kiln doesn't count, he tells himself. It was for a greater purpose.)

…..

Everyone has always known that Beau likes to fight. She's grumpy, abrasive, rude- it's not a surprise. And she's gotten pretty good at it, which saves them often enough that they don't mind her sneaking out to train some. How else is she gonna keep punching the bad guys?

Molly picks her up at a club, once, after she fights too many people in a row. She doesn't know how he found her, and honestly she's too dizzy to care. He leads her out as she struggles to go back. She's not down, she can keep going, she can take it.

Molly sits her down in a gutter, keeping hold of her. He looks into her eyes, holding the contact.

"You don't have to take it," he says, oddly serious. "You don't need to hurt anymore, it'll get you killed one day."

"What if that's what I want?" Beau snarls before thinking, spitting blood on the ground. It's silent for a beat, and Molly goes still.

His voice is soft when he speaks again.

"We don't want you to want that. We-. You know what, fuck it. I like you, Unpleasant One. And there are better things in the world than death or suffering. Let us help." Molly's grip on her loosens, and Beau is sure she could slip free and back into that club if she wanted.

"I wasn't. Serious." Beau licks her lips, wincing. She spits more blood on the ground and waits for a response.

Molly looks her over.

"Good!" He says, loud again, clapping her on the shoulder.

Beau punches him, standing up. They walk back.

Later, Beau will wonder if Molly had enjoyed cutting up his skin, and if that's why he had been the one who knew to help her. She wonders if she should have helped him back. In any case, it's too late.

Beau never stops fighting, exactly. She learns to be calmer, to stop doing it to stop the pain. But Beau has always been a fighter for what she cares about, so she will always fight for the Mighty Nein.

…..

Caleb is certain that keeping his wrists in bandages had eventually attracted suspicion. Nobody confronted him on it, because this is the Mighty Nein, and confronting things is not their speciality. Molly had given him a few glances, as had Nott. Beau and Caduceus stared at him like he was a puzzle, sometimes. But nobody says anything, so Caleb brings up some of it himself. Not all of it, because that's not necessary, but enough to excuse his scars.

(Later, in the Deschilla's lair, when he does so much damage to himself with so little reaction, he wonders if Fjord catches on. But they made an uncomfortable amount of eye contact in that exchange, and Caleb knows Fjord had been too comfortable in this exchange as well. He won't ask any questions.)

Later, Caleb even learns to be comfortable with bare arms. He doesn't tell them, ever, per se. It doesn't matter, though. They know enough, and Caleb believes he is strong enough to never do that again. He has other options now.

…..

Jester is bright, bright, bright, so the Mighty Nein doesn't think anything is wrong, she's pretty sure! Okay, so Beau asks her if she's fine one day and she lies a little and Beau calls her on it. But everybody messes up sometimes, and she's so tired today, and she hurts already so there'd be no point in adding to it, so she just goes to sleep.

Later, Jester will think, and she'll realize that her mother wouldn't want this for her. So she finds Beau.

Beau is sitting in her room, crumpled paper surrounding her, and Jester hesitates, because this isn't a good time, obviously, and it's not like this can't just wait, really, but Beau sees her, jerks up her head, and says,

"Oh, hey, Jester, what's up?" This feels like a bad time, because Beau looks upset and if she's already upset Jester doesn't want to make it worse, so she decides it's not time to fess up after all.

"What are you doing, Beau?" She asks, pasting on a smile and waltzing over.  
For a second, Jester doesn't think Beau's going to tell her. Then she sighs, shoving the paper off her desk.

"I was gonna write a letter to my family, Jessie. I don't know what I wanna say though, I guess. I know I don't need them or anything, I just." And Beau looks so frustrated, her hands in the air, but also so deeply sad.

"You still want their approval." Because that's what it's all about. There is precious little emotion in it, too little really, but Beau seizes it.

"Yes, exactly. You… get it." And Beau gives her a funny look, because her mother loves her very much, and Beau's parents not at all, so how should Jester understand?

"We all want our parents to be happy." Jester says, and maybe there was a teensy sob in the last word, but it was really well disguised, really. Except, she snuck a glance at Beau, who looked concerned, and that wasn't what she was trying to do at all!

"You okay, Jessie?" Beau said, arms crossed like she was surly, but everyone knew she wasn't.

"I'm fine, Beau." She says, and Beau cocks an eyebrow.

"You sure?" Beau says, and the eyebrow stays up, her posture unchanging.

"Yes, o- of course," and for a second her voice wobbles and in that second Jester knows Beau won't let this go.

"So, what'd you come here for?" Beau says, and Jester blinks at the sudden change of tactic, but she remembers what she came here to tell Beau, and it doesn't seem fair to stress her more, but when will she have a better opportunity- it all runs through her head in the space of a second. And she makes a decision.

"Please don't hate me, okay?" She whispers, and it's soft and squeaky, and she pulls up the edge of her sleeve and turns her arm so Beau can see the streaked skin.

"Is that…?" Beau asks, mouth ajar, gently extending a hand but not quite touching, before gathering herself.

"I don't judge or anything, but you know you can talk to us, right? And why would you think I would hate you?" Beau's voice is quiet, and she doesn't sound upset, and Jester knows she made the right choice in who to trust with this.

"I didn't want to burden you, or anything." Jester says, and it's more of a murmur really, as she stares at the ground.

"Jester, you aren't a burden. Look, if you're hurting, say so. We're a bunch of fucking idiots, but we have each other, okay? There's no need to suffer in silence. It's okay not to be okay, but just… Come to us? Please?" And Beau sounds so strained, which was not what Jester wanted to do at all.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted all of you to be happy." Jester said, dropping her sleeve. It's all said in barely a whisper, quiet enough that maybe she can pretend not to have said anything at all.

Beau hears, though, and she says, almost as quietly as Jester, "You don't have to be sorry. And we are happy, sort of, I guess. I don't know." And her tone is so very gentle. "Jessie, thanks for telling me this. Come to me whenever you need to, okay? I don't want you to do this again if it's not absolutely necessary." She gestures to Jester's scars.

(Beau wonders if Jester knows how much she just came up with on the spot to try and help her. Beau wonders if Jester knows how big of a hypocrite she can be about this. Beau doesn't say any of this.)

"Okay, Beau," Jester says, and it's still a whisper, but she feels better now. And she stays and they talk of lesser things.

It's not perfect, but Jester tries to go to Beau, or just be around the Nein when she wants to hurt herself. It's not perfect by any means, but she messes up even less than before. It's not perfect, but it's better, and her demons are usually defeated, and Jester thinks, isn't that a cleric's job?

……

Molly knows about Yasha, because she tells him the first time she meets him, his wrists scratched bloody all over. But she doubts the rest of the Nein do, because her scars are deep, angry things, and they look like they're from combat, and she supposes they are, albeit a different sort.

Yasha leaves, all the time, when she feels she doesn't deserve these people. The Stormlord pushes and pulls, yes, but she has more control than she'd like to admit, because that would be to admit she chooses to run.

She tries not to hurt herself anymore, because it's not what Zuala wanted. It's not what the Stormlord wants, either, she finds out one bad night, when she dreams of a thunderous storm and a body in the mud. She's compelled somehow to turn it over, and finds it to be herself, bloody scars marring her body. Her hands hold a sword stabbed through her chest, and the sky booms.

Yasha doesn't tell the Nein about that either. Without Molly or Zuala, she'll fight this alone.

(Until she's not alone anymore, but this isn't the companionship she wanted. She remembers destroying everything she could back then, not stopping at others or herself, and she doesn't want to do that anymore. She doesn't seem to have a choice right now.)

…..

Nott's pretty sure Caleb wouldn't judge her if he knew. He's unbound his wrists to wash the bandages before, away from her, but Nott is curious, and she'd watched, seeing what was beneath the bandages. Nott didn't judge him for it. Caleb was still very powerful, no matter who was hurting him.

But she's pretty sure he doesn't know. It isn't until the Mighty Nein that they really start questioning each other, that he truly understood how alien she felt in this body.

She never tells him, precisely. Nott knows how precious Caleb's self esteem can be, and she doesn't want to burden him with extra pressure to help her. He's still important to her, and she knows she's still the most important person to him. And she's glad for it, daily. But it never seems fair to tell him.

Yeza, though?

She never tells him, either, exactly. But one night, she takes off her shirt and shows him the claw marks and wiggles her own fingers.

He doesn't say anything, but he does look immeasurably sad, and he holds her so closely she can feel their hearts beat as one.

They don't have rhino sex, but somehow this is almost better.

Both Caleb and Yeza confront her the next day, and for a minute she wonders if they're going to yell at her unceasingly until she stops, say she shouldn't cope that way, bring Caduceus with all his calm judgment that screamed of pretentiousness into this mess.

But instead Caleb kneels down, takes her hand, and looks her in the eye.

"You can speak to us, ja?" He says, and Yeza looks on from behind him, silently. She knows he's nervous.

"Of course, Caleb. You too." She says, and both of them nod, and Caleb steps back. They share looks between all of them, but Yeza whispers something about a new potion he'd like to work on with all of them, and like that the spell is broken. They spend the day brewing said potion, which Yeza whispers will make you feel like you're floating and is probably illegal, but who knows, it's Xhoras after all.

And if she gives them both extra long hugs at the end of the day, no one says anything of it.

And it's better, after that. She's never been good at talking, but someone's always there for her. And for her, that's usually just enough.

(Not always. Hating the form you take is a hard habit to break, and self-destruction lays literally at her fingertips. But she tries to take her own position in this form. *Like Molly did,* she tries not to think, or sometimes does. So it doesn't always work. But recovery isn't linear in the best of cases, and she's doing her best. That's what really matters.)

…..

Caduceus makes certain that the Nein never finds out what he did in those days. After all, it wouldn't do for them to find out what he's done. They have more issues than he does, and it's not so terrible. If they're ever in a position it would help to reveal it he would, but it doesn't seem to be in fate's cards now.

He wonders, briefly, if it would help Fjord in the Dust kiln, but it wasn't about him then. And being with people, these people, has helped him a lot, he knows. Time works better now, and he doesn't lose chunks of it anymore, as far as he can tell.

(He reads, secretly, of the damaging forces of isolation and wonders how much he's truly healed. He prays to Melora and the Wildmother that night, to see why he's stopped. He dreams of a flower bursting, blood spattering around him, but when the flower has bloomed, it is beautiful and smells sweet. He wakes up and is certain again.)

Fjord contacts the Wildmother with him later and he tells him that the Mighty Nein themselves are an intervention. These people help.

And he considers, again, after the incident with the Ancient White Dragon, because thoughts of morality had sprung up like mushrooms, the oddities in the calm landscape of his mind. But again, they lived, and who was to say it wasn't for a reason?

So Caduceus doesn't tell the Mighty Nein he's hurt himself before until Fjord tells him, one night, about his teeth. It is by the firelight and nobody is with them but shadows and gods, and it seems right.

"I hurt myself too." He says, and it is likely too nonchalant, as Fjord's mouth opens in what he presumes is shock.

"Why, Caduceus? If you don't mind me asking," Fjord says, the word choice odd in his new accent. Caduceus doesn't reply for a minute, allowing the flames to play over Fjord's face.

"I'm not entirely sure," he finally replies, holding his tea closer. "I don't always remember having done it."

And it's difficult to admit he once been so unsure. It feels like stripping away the first layer of his skin.

(He doesn't admit the times he did know, because those he truly doesn't know how to explain. He doesn't want to, even though Fjord shared. He still wants something to hold close. And he doesn't admit to waking up in half dug graves, because that's too far for now, he reasons. Maybe someday.)

"Well, Caduceus, come to us next time, if you can." Fjord says, his voice still smooth. He seems to have swallowed some of his shock, but he still looks on Caduceus with concern.

"Of course, Mr.Fjord." He says, easily. And he might.

It is quiet at the fire after that.

And after that they have an understanding. Watch me and I'll watch you. For the most part, it works.

…..

They're an odd sort, the Mighty Nein. Chipped and glued back together, with probably a few too many sharp edges. But they're getting better all the while. In baby steps, backward steps, and bounding leaps, they make the journey to better.

**Author's Note:**

> Please note I'm not the best writer and I wrote this to cope. A lot comes out of my own mess.
> 
> In any case, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this angsty mess, tell me if I should add any tags
> 
> The title is from Hallejah by Leonard Cohen (though I believe Rufus Wainwright sung it best.)


End file.
